


Bouquet

by PotatoCrisp



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, M/M, a lot of the kids stop by but r76 is main, also 'my friend is marrying your friend and we're both part of the wedding' au, flower shop au, it's official "mature" now i guess, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:03:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoCrisp/pseuds/PotatoCrisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's just doing the flower arrangements for his best (and maybe only) friend's wedding.</p><p>He's not doing the cute guy who's part of the bridal party.</p><p>But oh, how he could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sycamore

More than anything, it had just sort of _happened_. Fresh off of his first tour of service, Gabriel Reyes had been helping his sister prepare for her upcoming wedding. Mostly he was keeping her from pulling out her hair or the hair of her wedding coordinator, but helping nonetheless.

It had been the flowers, though. His sister’s wedding planner sat prim and proper across the table pointing her perfectly manicured nails at picture after picture of arrangements in her encyclopedia’s worth of binders. It was exhausting and he could see his sister’s patience wearing thinner and thinner by the moment. They had that in common.

“Can’t we just pick some flowers and put them in jars and call it a day?” Gabe all but growled at the wedding planner, and watched her plastered-on smile slip a bit.

“You most certainly cannot!” She had roared back at him, and that had been the end of that.

You most certainly _could_ just pick flowers and put them in jars and call it a day, Gabe found. In fact, there was something very peaceful about setting up each table’s centerpiece, something relaxing about setting the garlands around the venue, and something _very rewarding_ about hearing every mother on the block gush about how beautiful his baby sister looked surrounded by white hyacinths, pink roses and crisp green foliage.

Of course everyone wanted to know who’d arranged the flowers and, of course, Gabriel’s sister was all too happy to tell them her own brother had done them for her; how he’d fought off the horrible wedding planner who’d tried to ruin her big day (and maybe, just this once, Gabe didn’t think to call her out on her exaggerations). And of course, he had other members of the wedding party wanting him to help plan their future weddings’ floral arrangements. But Gabe was just looking for stability, especially after just coming back from overseas. He wanted something secure and constant. So of course, someone knew of a flower shop that needed an extra set of hands.

It had belonged to the mother of a boyfriend to one of the bridesmaids in his sister’s wedding, he thinks. Or maybe not. It’s not important anymore. He’d been hired under the pretenses of just cleaning up, manning the tills and occasionally offering advice to customers. Two years, one retirement party and one name change later, Gabe finds himself the owner of Death Blossom which, despite the incredibly off putting name, has become the local go-to place for floral arrangements of any kind; especially weddings.

He’s been running the shop on his own for the past five years.

“When are you going to change that awful name?” Amélie, his current client and unfortunately probably the closest thing he has to a best friend, groans for the millionth time from the counter as Gabe emerges from the back room, dusting potting soil off his work apron.

“When it stops getting me so many curious walk-in clients. You’d be surprised how many people who just want to take a peek around the place end up leaving with a bouquet for their significant other in hand.”

Amélie’s lip twitches at him in feigned disgust.

“Maybe it reminds them that death comes to all and to cherish the ones they love while they can.” He waxes in a forced dramatic tone.

“I don’t know why I support you financially.” Amélie sighs.

“Because you have a fiancé whom you love very much and are trying to give her the best possible wedding.” Gabe remembers Amélie burst into his tiny apartment above the shop one night in tears, wailing about how her life was ending. He’s assumed she’d been fired from her job (which she weirdly never spoke of in any specifics) or perhaps even charged with murder to draw that reaction; he’d never once seen her cry in all the time he’d known her. What he hadn’t been expecting was her to describe the cute, exuberant girl she’d met and how she’d just been on the best date of her life.

That’d been a year ago, and Gabe had also been there the night Amélie had all but kicked his door down, velvet ring box in hand, to announce that she was ready to propose to Lena. It hadn’t even been up for discussion that he’d arrange the flowers for the wedding.

Their meeting today was all business though. Gabe would go with Amélie to the venue where Lena would be waiting with a few other members of the bridal party to get ideas and make plans for decorations so everything at the wedding would coordinate.

Just a short drive later, the pair arrived at their desired location. The wedding venue was a spacious banquet hall of a hotel all the guests would be staying at, and opened into an expansive outdoor patio that would serve as a great reception area. As Gabe and Amélie walked the perimeter to get a feel for the space, he could hear Lena’s loud machine gun chatter bounce off the walls as she rounded the corner.

“Amélie! You’re already here!” She shouted, rushing across the banquet hall to greet her fiancé. Gabe would have been amused by the display if he hadn’t been distracted by the group that had arrived with his friend’s fiancé.

There were two women, one blonde with a sunny disposition and the other with dark braided hair and an air of calm about her, gazing upon the engaged couple with looks that Gabe knew from previous events spoke of future clients, as well as a sturdy, hairy man in a cowboy hat. Trailing behind them was a handsome man with blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes, who was staring at Gabe like he’d just seen a ghost.

Lena, who was normally not one for social cues, seemed to pick up on the awkwardness of their group.

“This is Amélie’s friend Gabriel,” she chirped. “He’ll be doing the floral arrangements and will also be part of the wedding party. Gabriel, this is Angela, Fareeha, Jesse and Jack.”

“You can call be Gabe.” He said, taking a moment to shake each of their hands in what he hoped was profession but also casual around people who we would probably being seeing much more of in the near future. The blonde man, Jack, still seemed shell-shocked by Gabe’s presence, if his tense white-knuckled handshake was anything to go by.

“Is there shit on my face or something, pal?” Gabe asked, and Jack must have quickly realized he was attempting to crush his hand and suddenly let go, coloring with embarrassment. It might have even been charming if Gabe weren’t so used to people finding his presence to be intimidating.

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly, with Lena rattling off every idea she could think of to be included in the wedding, with Amélie interjecting every now and then to keep her from overwhelming their companions. Angela was having a quiet conversation with Fareeha, while Jesse would occasionally mutter something into Jack’s ear and then laugh loudly while the blonde man reddened in embarrassment or even, at one specific point, punch the cowboy none too lightly in the shoulder.

Gabe observed the group quietly and would occasionally discuss different color combination and flower preferences with the couple. As afternoon turned into evening, Lena seemed to visibly tire and announced her hunger to the group in hopes of giving everyone a bit of respite from all the planning. With no hesitation, Amélie acquiesced to take the group out to eat, concluding their work for the day.

“You up for some drinks Gabriel?” She questioned with a single arched eyebrow. Gabe could sense her pleading him to join the group that was no doubt mostly friends of Lena’s.

“I’ve got to get back and clean up the shop for the evening, thanks for the invite though.” He said with a wave, not missing Amélie’s scowl nor the look of disappointment that flashed across Jack’s face for a mere instant.

How interesting.

For a moment Gabe considered changing his decision, but he really did have cleaning to do, and a new shipment of flowers would arrive in the morning that he’d have to be prepared for. Amélie and her fiancé’s friends would have to wait until another time.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

“Morrison kept asking questions about you. I said he’d have to ask you next time. Which _will_ happen because you won’t chicken out to go jerk it alone, surrounded by flowers.”

“Nice to see you too, Amélie. Which one is Morrison? The cowboy?”

Amélie snorted while she played with the petals on one of the large sunflowers in the corner of the shop.

“As if. Morrison. You know, pretty boy. Wouldn’t stop looking at your ass the whole time we walked the venue.”

That’s not the response Gabe was expecting.

“He kept looking at me funny. Like I stepped in shit or something and he didn’t know how to tell me.”

He could hear Amélie snort again.

“More like he didn’t know how to ask you for your number. You better come out for drinks next time Lena gets her little gang together. I may not be on the dating scene anymore but that doesn’t mean I can’t live vicariously through your pathetic romantic life.”

She’s cut off from saying anything else when Gabe tosses a handful of potting soil at her.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

Next time comes sooner than Gabe expects, when Amélie calls him the next evening and threatens to poison all his flowers if he doesn’t tag along this time.

“I need someone with me who’s not a complete optimist all the time. I love Lena and her friends are nice but sometimes I’d just like to bitch about my day without them trying to find a silver lining.”

“Aw Amélie,” Gabe sing-songs in to his cell phone as he closes up the shop and waits for the telltale engine roar of her sports car to pick him up. “It’s almost like you _like_ me.”

“Don’t get a big head Gabriel. I’m just using you for your flower arrangements.” There’s a noise in the background like she’s taken the phone away from her ear.

“Lena’s calling again, probably wondering why we’re not fifteen minutes early like her and the sunshine gang. I’ll see you in five.” And hangs up without so much as a goodbye.

It’s ten minutes later when Gabe pulls his beanie low on his head in the evening chill and adjusts his sweatshirt as he watches Amélie’s car zip around the corner and pull up to the curb. She’s still on the phone; not talking but making small noises every so often, no doubt listening to one of Lena’s usual tales.

They pull up at the bar; a quiet place with cheap drinks and half decent food. Besides Lena’s group there are a few others scattered around the bar, a table that looks like some people freshly off work, a few patron coupled up at tables here and there that might be out on dates. It’s casual, which Gabe can appreciate.

Lena bounds over in her usual greeting of trying to hug as much of Amélie at once as she physically can. Gabe recognizes Angela and Fareeha from before, the cowboy is thankfully nowhere to be seen, but is instead replaced by young man who can’t be much older than the drinking age who has a dopey smile and disastrous green hair. Next to him there’s a man who appears to be around the same age who has his deadlocks pulled up into a high ponytail and seems preoccupied with his headphones. Jack sits nervously at the end of the table, casting looks at the empty seat next to him while pretending to text on his phone.

“Well now that the slowpokes are here we can finally order!” Lena cheers dropping into one of the two empty seats next to each other on the opposite end of the table, leaving Gabe to take the one next to Jack. Amélie casts him a smug look that he arches one eyebrow to haughtily, but he’s not going to argue with the arrangement. Not yet, anyways.

“It’s nice to see you again, we didn’t get to talk to you much at the hotel.” The words seem to explode from Jack the moment Gabe is seated. He reminds him of a golden retriever puppy; over eager and constantly tripping over its own clumsy self.

“Well I was there for business, unlike the rest of you.” He counters. It’s true, he’s technically being employed by Amélie to do the flowers for her wedding, but he is also part of the bridal party. But if Gabe isn’t as chatty and outgoing as the rest of the group, then that’s his own business.

“True, but Ms. Lacroix mentioned you’d be in the wedding too.”

Gabe laughs at the grumbled “For fuck’s sake call me Amélie, Jack.” From across the table and leans in conspiringly, motioning for Jack to do the same. Heads hunched together close with the ambient rabble of the bar in the background, Gabe figures now is a good a time as any to test Amélie’s theory.

“Between you and me,” he starts, voice low and rumbling. “I think Amélie just needs me to stand there and look pretty for her wedding pictures. I’ve been known to cut a fine figure in a suit.”

He gets more than the reaction he expected. Jack’s eyes, while never leaving his face, go distant for a second before refocusing on him. And he certainly doesn’t miss the split second where the blonde’s gaze drops to his lips before reestablishing eye contact.

Maybe Amélie wasn’t fucking with him after all.

“I’m glad they’ve chosen to have a more private affair.” Jack says with almost forced disinterest, hands playing with a napkin on the table.

“Just the families and bridal party, plus their dates.”

Gabe can read him from a mile away, and takes the bait.

“You got a date all planned then, Captain Rogers?” The exasperated laugh Jack lets out leads Gabe to believe he’s gotten that comparison before. Maybe a few too many times.

Jack runs a hand nervously (the same hand that’d been fiddling with the napkin, Gabe notices) through his already-quite-ruffled hair and is about to answer when a waiter suddenly appears at the table, asking for drink orders to start.

The conversation is derailed, at least momentarily, as Lena asks the waiter in-depth questions about how every drink is made and tries to guess the orders of everyone around the table, with very little success. Amélie catches Gabe’s eye from where she’s seated across the table and raises one shoulder slightly in question. He mimics the motion back at her and sees more than hears the “tsk” noise she makes in response.

If she were really keen on getting involved with his love life (or lack thereof, he supposes) she could at least try to hook him up with someone with a bit more initiative.

But the night is still young and they’ve just ordered their first round of drinks. He figures he might as well give Jack a chance, if he’s willing to step up and take it.


	2. Hydrangea

The food has been ordered, delivered and is halfway through being devoured by the time Jack speaks up again. Most of the table’s focus has been spent on Lena and the young green-haired man, Genji, Gabe recalls, who are currently engaged in a life or death battle of who can toss more fries into the air and catch them in their mouth. They’re both tied at zero, and Gabe can spot the long-suffering looks the waitstaff are casting at the food scraps littering the floor.

“So, why flowers?”

Gabe pulls his attention away from Genji, who currently has a fry shoved up one of his nostrils, to where Jack is currently leaning casually on his elbows, encroaching on Gabe’s space at the table.

It’s a question he’s used to. Bored of, honestly. He’s got a whole barrage of prepared answers to keep people from ever asking him a second time.

“Well it certainly helps with dates. You’d be surprised how far a simple bouquet can get you sometimes.” Gabe purrs, leaning forward as well.

Jack’s eyes widen for a second, (and Gabe’s expecting the embarrassed look he came to assume was a natural fixture on the other man’s face from how often he’d seen it at the wedding venue) before quickly narrowing as his brows furrow.

“Huh. From how much Amélie was ranting just the other day about how much of a shut-in you are and, I quote, ‘I swear to god he’s gonna marry a fucking potted plant someday’, it doesn’t seem like your bouquets are getting you very far at all.”

Fucking Amélie.

He quickly considers how long he can avoid talking to her for the sake of being petty. Maybe a day and a half if he fakes an illness. She’s persistent.

Gabe sits back in his seat, whatever french fry antics happening around him have faded into the background as he folds his arms across his chest and levels his best glare at Jack.

“Well look here, you _do_ bite. Is the blushing Boy Scout persona your way to pick up dates, then?”

“Is your Bad Boy persona yours?”

Gabe raises an eyebrow at him.

“I could be bad, you don’t know me.”

Jack finally breaks the state down with a sudden, full-body laugh.

“You’re _a florist_ , you can’t be all bad. I don’t have to know you to be able to figure that much out.”

Gabe leans forward into the space Jack has opened between them. He couldn’t care less about what’s going on with the rest of the table at this point; he’s going in for the kill.

“But you’d sure like to know me, wouldn’t you?”

Finally, _finally_ Gabe gets the reaction out of Jack he’d been expecting; he stops suddenly and Gabe can see the color on the tips of his ears and creeping out from his shirt collar and up his neck. He counts it as a win.

Another round of drinks are dispersed at the table before Genji and the man with the headphones, Lúcio, bid their farewells. Angela and Fareeha are not far behind. Lena is yawning over-dramatically and Amélie figures it’s time she takes her fiancé home as well. It’s not until Gabe is watching her long ponytail disappear out the door before it hits him.

“She set me up.”

Jack is looking at him in confusion, which would probably be annoying considering the circumstances if he didn’t look so much like a puppy when you pretend to throw a ball.

“She was my ride.” Gabe spells out. “She was my ride, and she left me with you because she _knew_ I didn’t have a ride.”

Jack laughs again, and Gabe hates how much he enjoys the sound.

“I’m sure there are worse people who she could have left you with.”

“True, but I haven’t ruled out whether or not you could be an ax murderer yet.” Gabe says with half seriousness as they vacate the table.

They pay their bills and leave to find Jack’s car parked around behind the bar. It’s a bland car; some silver compact car that Gabe would lose track of in a parking garage in a heartbeat. Not even remotely close to Amélie’s purple sports car.

On the short drive back Gabe learns a few things; Jack is from a small town in Indiana which, while not ruling out Gabe’s ax murderer theory, explains a lot of his personality. He wanted to go into the military, he admits upon hearing of Gabe’s service, but went to the police academy instead.

“So you’re a cop then,” Gabe prompts. It fits the poster-boy persona perfectly.

From his spot in the driver’s seat, Jack shrugs.

“It pays the bills.” He says as a means of explanation.

“I’m just saying it suits you.” Gabe clarifies, for what reason he’s not sure. Turning his head to look out the window, he can feel Jack’s eyes on him. The tension in the car feels suffocating.

“The shop’s right here, thanks for the lift.”

“You _live_ in the shop? Jeez, I thought Amélie was kidding but-” Gabe is halfway out of the car when he snaps around.

“My apartment is above the shop you asshole.” He climbs out of the car and slams the door for good measure. Jack lets out another one of those full body laughs that Gabe wishes weren’t so damn endearing.

“Don’t you have someplace else to be? Laws to uphold? Crime to fight and all that?”

“I’m off duty right now Gabe, honestly. And I thought we were bonding for a moment there.”

Gabe folds his arms across his chest defensively.

“Yeah well I’m not inviting you up, if that’s what you think.”

Jack gives him a look before moving to shift the car back into drive.

“Next time, then.” Is all he says, before his car is gone and Gabe is left standing on the dark sidewalk in front of his shop. A breeze sends a chill up his spine.

He’s so fucked.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

So, of course, he tells Amélie about it the next day.

“Gabriel Reyes you are going to die alone.”

Her lilting voice sounds threatening, even through the phone receiver.

“I open up to you and _this_ is how you treat me.”

“Gabriel,” she starts, and although she’s the only person who calls him by his full name, it has the same tone as when his mother would chastise him as a child.

“I try to set you up with a guy who seemed interested in you, he drives you home and you blatantly tell him you’re _not_ inviting him into your apartment?”

“Look, you weren’t there,” he argues, but knows he’s being a fool about this all the same. “It would have been weird. He said 'next time’ anyways, so I probably didn’t completely blow it.”

“So then text him to schedule a 'next time’, what are you waiting for?”

His silence is all the answer she needs.

“You didn’t even get his number, did you?”

He sighs loudly into the phone as she continues.

“Look Gabriel, you spend so much time in your shop helping out others with their romantic lives, maybe take a little time for your own every once in a while. Anyways, Lena wants to go out, so I’ve got to go. I’ll text you Jack’s number. If you pretend to lose it I will set every one of your precious flowers on fire.”

She ends the call without a goodbye, just as Gabe has come to expect.

A moment later his phone pings with a new text.

It’s a phone number and TEXT HIM written in all caps below it.

Yep, he’s definitely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who knows how many chapters anymore, I certainly don't. 3? 4? 5?  
> Anyways thank you for all the kind words, I'm not a writer but I wanted to add to the fandom in some way so thank you!


	3. Sweet Pea

With the wedding fast approaching, Gabe hardly has time to leave his shop anymore. All the shipments of flowers he needs for Amélie’s arrangements have arrived and his hands ache from making countless centerpieces and other displays to place around the venue. Once Amélie drops by with takeout as a surprise to find him asleep on the counter, fresh blooms in hand. It’s a miracle he didn’t crush any of them.

But there’s one thing he made time for; he texted Jack. It was a simple “this is Gabe, Amélie gave me your number” text, but a text all the same.

And even that one harmless, emotionless sentence had taken him about three solid days to compose. Gabe was the type of person who texted in extremes; he was either extremely casual, (once he and Lena had held an entire conversation composed entirely of emojis. It was very creative, to say the least) or he texted like he was writing a business email.

Regardless of Gabe’s poor texting form, the response was instantaneous.

**> about time**

Gabe considers immediately deleting Jack’s number from his phone and maybe packing up the shop and moving to a completely new city, but Amélie’s paying him a lot for the floral arrangements so that might have to wait. At least until after the wedding.

He taps out a response.

**It’s not my fault you never asked for my number**

**> would u have given it to me if I had??**

No, he probably wouldn’t have. Truthfully, he would have laughed right into Jack Morrison’s handsome face and then gone home to have Amélie curse him out over the phone for his impulse to keep people from getting close to him. He hates how good she is at reading him.

His phone pings again.

**> since ur not answering I’ll take that as a no**

Maybe it’s not too late to delete Jack’s number. Although at this rate, even if he did, he assumes Jack is the type of person to send a barrage of messages until he gets a response.

**Maybe I was busy**

**> ARE u busy?**

Gabe eyes the half-finished bouquet in front of him. It can wait.

**No**

His phone rings suddenly and the shrill tone reverberated so loudly through the empty shop that Gabe almost drops it. He answers and hears a sigh ghost across the receiver.

“You’re horrible at texting, you know that?”

Gabe sneers before realizing nobody is around to see it, then clicks his tongue in frustration.

“Sorry I can’t portray my winning personality through type.” He grumbles and Jack chuckles lightly.

“It’s not a bad thing, I guess I just got used to your tough guy act and your bland texting didn’t have me convinced I was really talking to you.”

“You’ve met me twice.”

Gabe can hear him shift the phone in his hands. For a second he wonders what Jack’s doing at the moment. Is he working, just like Gabe? Are cops allowed to make personal calls at work? Or is he at home, wearing something comfortable, talking to Gabe like they’re best friends.

“You left an impression those two times, then.”

He doesn’t know where to go from here. If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t know what he even wants from Jack at this point. Sure, Amélie thinks there’s some potential for them to be…something, he supposes, but is that what HE wants. And what does Jack even want?

Gabe’s used to people finding him attractive, is used to people wanting a quick fling and then moving on. He’s fine with that, but he’s not used to not knowing what the other person expects out of their relationship. Is Jack looking for a friend? A hookup?

Gabe doesn’t allow himself to consider anything further; he’s already too far out of his depth. Best to just get it all out into the open.

“Are you flirting with me, Jack Morrison?”

There’s a soft cough through the phone that sounds suspiciously like Jack trying to maintain his facade of calm and casual. Gabe is certain he’s red to the tips of his ears in person, but he lets him continue.

“I’ve been trying to flirt with you since you showed up at the bar. I would have tried earlier too if I weren’t so dumbfounded by seeing you that first time.” Gabe’s struck by how sincere the admission sounds.

“That first day after the hotel, I asked Amélie about you.” His voice is more hushed now; like he’s unveiling something deeply personal. Maybe he is.

“She laughed at me, she always does, but she wouldn’t tell me anything about you. And then you were at the bar and I _had_ to try to talk to you. And you were so _real_ with me.” Gabe’s about to ask him to clarify when Jack steamrolls right along with his one-sided conversation.

“Sometimes people just see me as the cop; as the all-American guy. But you saw past that immediately. You don’t mince words and you don’t put on airs and,” Gabe hears the shuddering breath Jack lets out as if they were in the same room together, mere inches apart.

“And I _liked_ it, I liked talking to you. I didn’t want it to end and then I was driving you home and suddenly you were gone again.” The cadence of his voice is picking up like he can’t get the words out quick enough. There’s a rustling sound again and Gabe’s struck by how close it sounds. Jack’s breath catches and it’s deafening in the surrounding silence.

“Are you,” Gabe pauses, afraid to break the tension that always seems to be present between them. “Are you touching yourself right now?”

Jack lets out a breath that sounds like the tail-end of a laugh. It’s an electric, raw sound.

“Would you hang up on me if I was?” Is the only response he gives.

Gabe considers for a moment. Thinks of Jack alone in his house. Jack, who wanted to hear his voice as compared to a text conversation. Jack, who’d apparently been waiting for Gabe to text him. Jack, who had wanted to get to know the florist who keeps everyone at arms’ length.

Jack, who’s currently masturbating to their phone conversation.

All in all, it’s not the worst outcome.

“I haven’t hung up yet have I?”

There’s a low groan through the phone that pitches high into a whine at the end and, God, Gabe is an idiot. A huge idiot. He shouldn’t be letting this happen, he should…he should definitely do something that’s not just sitting here dumbstruck, but the sound of the man on the other end of the line has destroyed his ability to make rational decisions.

He can feel heat pooling low in his stomach and palms himself roughly through the soft denim of his jeans. Luckily it’s late enough that no customers are going to randomly drop by, but doing this in the middle of his flower shop is less than ideal.

He’ll never be able to stand in here again without remembering the phone sex he had with a near stranger.

A near stranger who’s breathing his name into his ear like a prayer, at the moment.

“What about you?” Jack asks, startling Gabe out of his trance.

“What about me?” He growls lowly, but with no bite. He runs his hand down the seam of his pants, feeling the outline of his erection through the fabric. It may be late, and his shop might be free of customers at the moment, but pulling his dick out of his pants when anyone could walk in isn’t a risk he’s currently willing to take.

“Did you think of me?” Jack prompts him, and by the slick sounds coming through the phone Gabe can imagine him, cock in hand with his cellphone balanced between chin and shoulder, stroking himself. He half wishes he were there to see it in person.

“I thought you were an idiot.” Gabe says, and there’s a silence that tells him Jack has stopped him movements for the moment, that he’s just listening.

“I thought you might be one of those guys who’s just a pretty smile on the outside until he finds your weakness. At the wedding venue,” Gabe presses the heel of his palm roughly against his groin, enjoys the spark it send up his spine.

“At the wedding venue, you wouldn’t stop looking at me like you were planning something. I didn’t trust it. Not even when Amélie said you were curious. So at the bar I knew I had to try to break you.”

There’s another sigh from Jack and the sounds of him stroking himself pick up again, but slower this time.

“And?” Jack’s voice pitches lower.

“And did you break me?”

It’s so stupid Gabe laughs. A full, throaty laugh that’s probably the opposite of attractive during phone sex. He’s not sure what actual phone see etiquette is but he’s certain it doesn’t involve laughing at the other person.

“No I didn’t. Because you wouldn’t let me get a moment of quiet the whole fucking night. You insulted my dating life, my personality and my _living arrangements_. You’re an asshole, Jack. And _fuck_ that shouldn’t have been attractive but you left me on the sidewalk that evening in front of this stupid shop wishing I’d invited you in. Wishing I could shove you up against a wall until you learned your place.”

If Jack tries to hold in the moan that reaches Gabe’s ears, he clearly didn’t try hard enough. It fills him with excitement, white hot electricity at reducing someone he’s only just met to incoherency. In that second he feels powerful.

Which is of course why, at exactly that second, the phone in the store rings.

“H-hold on a second I have to answer this.” Gabe fumbles for the landline, can hear Jack’s stoppered response on his cell.

“Are you in the shop? You _were_ working.” He lets out a breathy laugh that Gabe wishes he could record to play over and over.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jack says, with no small amount of disappointment in the tone of his voice.  
“But don’t think I won’t hold this against you. You owe me for this.”

“You can hold anything against me you want.” Gabe sing-songs as he picks up the store phone, rattling off his usual greeting to the customer on the other end. Before he hangs up on his cell phone call he can faintly hear Jack’s grumbled complaints about how he’s never going to be able to look at the flowers at Amélie’s wedding without thinking of this, and Gabe has to choke down the laugh that threatens to bubble out for the sake of the customer on the other line.

At least he and Jack have that in common, then.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

They don’t talk for three days after the phone incident, which is entirely Gabe’s fault. Jack, as he’d assumed, sent him a barrage of text messages; everything from asking how he was to pictures of random dogs he sees while on duty, but Gabe doesn’t have the heart to reply.

He feels overwhelmed, honestly, he still doesn’t know what Jack wants out of their…whatever this is, and it’s got him overthinking everything he does.

Gabe likes Jack, fuck maybe that’s not even a strong enough word, but he’s not ready to come to terms with that yet. They’ve still only met a couple of times, spoken only a few times more and Gabe doesn’t want to be hung high and dry when Jack decides he isn’t worth sticking around for.

And he’s shocked by how much that thought causes an ache in his chest.

At least he’s busy enough with finishing the arrangements for the wedding to have an excuse not to answer any of the texts Jack is continuing to send.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

It’s another two days later when Gabe is woken to the sound of a commotion out in front of the shop.

He makes his way down the stairs of his apartment and onto the sidewalk to find a group of people all gathered around the coffee shop two doors down. There’s some broken glass on the sidewalk and one of the widows has a board over it covering where the glass was presumably shattered. Gabe eyes the crowd and recognizes, among them, the familiar silhouette of the cowboy that’s been at the wedding venue with Lena. Jesse, if he recalls correctly.

Jesse seems to notice him as well and makes his way through the cluster of people towards Gabe, revealing his police uniform. He tips his hat slightly in Gabe’s direction before motioning over his shoulder at the coffee shop.

“Some kids tried to break in late last night. Found ‘em before they could cause any real damage besides some glass, but that’s left us on cleanup duty and keeping the locals from getting too worked up.” He seems to finally take stock of the sweats Gabe is wearing and the store they’re standing in front of.

“This your place? Death Blossom. Boy you sure know how to name 'em, don'tcha?”

Gabe is about to dismiss himself and go back to bed when a familiar shock of blonde hair comes through the crowd.

“Jesse, I’m trying to gather statements from the owner and workers I'd appreciate it if you’d stop giving my phone number to random passerby and telling them I 'do bachelorette parties’.” He spots Gabe standing in front of the shop and at least has the decency to look embarrassed, although he does nothing more to acknowledge him.

Jesse, who seems to know when he’s not wanted not needed, takes the awkward silence as his cue to leave. With a short wave over his shoulder, he leaves the two to their uncomfortable tension.

“I’ll see you back at the station, Morrison.” The cowboy calls after them.

“You haven’t answered my texts.” Jack starts, folding his arms over his chest in what Gabe imagines is his tough-cop interrogation stance. It has little impact when he knows what Jack sounds like moaning and breathless over the phone.

Which is exactly what Gabe DOESNT need to be thinking about right now.

“I’ve been busy.” It’s an excuse, and they both know it, but he needs time to clear his head about this whole situation. He just needs time.

“After the wedding we can talk. I promise. No phones, no work, just face to face. Talk.”

If Jack is about to say something, a new commotion coming from within the coffee shop cuts him off.

“I’ve got to finish this up, but I’m hold you to that. After the wedding.”

“You can hold me against anything you want.” Gabe echoes from before, and the stern lines across Jack’s face soften a bit, before he nods and is gone again.

Gabe has to resist the urge to call out to him, to get a few more moments together, even amidst this chaos.

After the wedding, he resigns.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever type something and then look back at it and are like ???  
> bc: this whole thing  
> next chapter is the wedding i promise im so sorry  
> thank you for the continued kudos and great comments!

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing  
> anyways the world needs more happy cheesy stupid r76  
> probably going to be 3 parts (pre wedding/wedding/post wedding)


End file.
